


Sherlock Drabbles

by TalaSilva



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 20:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalaSilva/pseuds/TalaSilva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated ficlets and drabbles based on one word proms. Unlimited chapters cause I have no idea how many I'll ever do</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

It began with a question. "Afghanistan or Iraq?" and just escalated from there. The next thing John Watson knew was not that he had moved in with this almost stranger but that he had killed a man for said stranger. But that smile, that small smile that the self-proclaimed sociopath gave him after was worth it. All the smiles Sherlock gave him were worth it.

And then suddenly they are living together day after day. Learning each others faults, seeing each other in their worst moments. But still those times of pure mayhem and mischief on a case. The times of brilliance and amazement. They always bring splendor and excitement back into their lives.

But neither of these times did John Watson begin to realize that he was in love with Sherlock Holmes. No, it was on one of their extremely rare moments of domestic bliss. Sherlock was standing, composing a beautiful melody on his violin And John reading the paper. Well he was pretending to read the paper, he was actually listening. John let his eyes drift up to the man that made up most all of his life and realized just how invested he was in this man. He realized just how much he loved him. And that's when Sherlock began to play. He played a song full to the bring of melancholy love and turned suddenly to stare directly into John's eyes. As the music swelled so did John's heart. At that moment he knew, Sherlock was composing this song for him! At the end of the song John took in a breath and said

"Beautiful song Sherlock" His voice didn't sound nearly as nervous as he felt. Sherlock smiled that 'Just-For-John' smile he loved so much and said softly,

"It was for you"

And that was their beginning.


	2. Accusation

"You never loved me!" The accusation hangs in the air. John stares Sherlock down. Sherlock stares back shocked.  
"O-of course I did! I still do! John please!"  
"No! We were a couple Sherlock! And then you" he pauses "you died. And didn't have the decency to tell me it was a lie? How could you let me suffer? I felt like I was dying every day!"  
"It was to protect you!"  
"Protect me? From what? Certainly not myself! Do you knowhow often I contemplated killing myself. I couldn't LIVE without you!"  
"I jumped because Moriarty threatened to kill you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson. I couldn't let that happen! Don't you think these years have been hard on me too! I couldn't live without you either John. I've always loved you!"  
"Oh Sherlock." John deflates, his anger leaving him. What's left is relief and happiness. Sherlock is back. All those moment of wishing he would return have paid off. Sherlock takes this moment to step forward and when the action is met with no ill will, steps forward and hugs John. John lets himself relax into the hug. Sherlock's back. Sherlock's back. He's back. And he'll never leave again.


	3. Restless

Sherlock is restless. And bored. Very bored. Not shooting the walls bored. John doesn't Allow that anymore. But he has resorted to composing in his boredom. He finds that he needs inspiration. He strokes the violin as he looks about the flat.

Even though John is out for some reason Sherlock can see him all around the flat. Memories flood him of times they've shared. And feelings he doesn't like to indulge in well to the surface. He raises the bow to the stings and begins to put the memories to music.

After a few bars he scurries to his music stand where blank sheet music sits. He grabs a pencil and writes at the top 'John'. Then proceeds to write down the music he's creating.

When John gets home he is finished with the piece. And playing it all the way through. He starts as John walks into the flat. Completely coincidental. But Sherlock plays for John all the same.

"That's beautiful Sherlock. I've never heard it before…"

"Newly composed."

"You composed that whole song while I was away?"

"Bored"

John just smiles at this. "So what's it called?"

"John" he doesn't mean for it to sound condescending. It just came out like that.

"Alright. I get it. I don't have to know-"

"No it's called 'John'. "

"You wrote a song for me?"

"Well…" a slight blush. The emotions are back. "I was remembering all the times we've had together and tried to put them to music. That was just the first piece."

"There'll be more?"

"I certainly hope so."


	4. Snowflake

Every snowflake is unique. Not one is like another. John is reminded of this when Sherlock comes home from a case completely COVERED in snow.

"What? Did you have to stand outside for hours?" John asks as he stands to help brush off the snow.

"Not hours. It's just snowing extremely heavily." John starts at Sherlock's hair brushes the snowflakes out of the dark curls.

"You know not one snowflake is like another. It was proven I think. I long time ago. You should do an experiment on snow or something"

"That... Is actually a good idea John." Sherlock smiles at him, that 'Just-For-John' smile. John smiles back.

"Thanks. Now get inside and warm up. I'll make tea and start a fire." John starts into the kitchen.

"Really John, I'm not going to contract pneumonia from a few snowflakes!" Sherlock exclaims.

"Well I'm not going to take that chance! I've got to keep you healthy. If I don't who will?" John says heading to the fire place. He throws a smile over his shoulder.

"You really care about me, don't you?" Sherlock asks sincerely.

"'Course I do. Your my best mate." the kettle boils and John leaves the small fire he's made. "Here" he hands over the cuppa.

"Thanks" Sherlock takes a ship. Milk, two sugars. Just the way he likes.

"Welcome. Want to watch some telly? I know you like making fun of those crime shows"

"Oh sure" And they settle in for a cozy night in 221b as snowflakes fall outside.


End file.
